A Profiler Christmas
by Yeto
Summary: At yet another dull Christmas party, Emily finds herself wishing profiler celebrations weren't quite so dull. Then things get interesting... Teamfic oneshot, plus spinoff characters. Some nice holiday humor!


Hello everyone! I'm Yeto and this is a Christmas oneshot... featuring Emily's quest for a little amusement at the Profiler Christmas Party. That's about all there is to say so I'll let you get right into it!

**Disclaimer**: not mine. sadsauce.

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss sighed and twisted the thin champagne flute in her hand, glancing at the clock, which seemed to be frozen. The annual Profiler Christmas Party was fizzling, and had been since it began. Every so often, a giant spectacle emerged to liven the get-together up, but most years the celebration fell flat on the promise of fun. The most entertainment was one of the alpha males getting drunker than another and starting a fight over who could take down the bigger unsub.<p>

She glanced up at the walls for the fifth time to ponder the decorations. Penelope Garcia had rounded up all the interns, trainees and new agents she could find to help her put up the garage-full of décor she kept. The tech, well-known to all profiling teams, was de-facto in charge of making every party look festive – a task which suited her all too well.

Facebook was busy with non-profiler agents expressing their jealousy that Garcia's talents were exclusive to profiler engagements. Her stylish flair was well-known throughout other law enforcement divisions, and Emily was _sure_ that having such pleasant trimmings lining the walls and desks made every boring FBI party instantly twenty percent cooler.

Glistening gold tinsel and silver-painted pine branches were strung from the ceiling, along with holly, crystal snowflakes, and ornaments. Penelope had kept the lighting neutral, only using gold icicle lights to frame the room instead of the giant, neon bulbs that Morgan had helped put up in her apartment.

Prentiss took another look around – if nobody interesting was available, or showed up soon, she was going to leave. Reid had been lassoed into a boring conversation with overeager recently-graduated cadets half an hour ago and was still stuck explaining his trivial facts to them. He appeared to be enjoying himself, more or less, but the constant, bubbly questions were grating on his more subdued personality. Morgan was chatting up a pair of unfamiliar women, probably looking for a holiday hottie to take home.

Hotch and Rossi were engaged in serious talk with Sam Cooper, another team leader, and the director himself… Wait, Fickler was here? Emily supposed he _was_ the director of all profilers, being the head of the FBI, but he didn't usually deem holiday parties as worth his time. Maybe it was time for budget cuts and he was looking for the weakest link control-wise to drop for having one too many cups of eggnog.

It never did make sense to her to offer such an array of alcoholic beverages when there were numerous agents struggling with alcoholism, or recovering from it. Sure, she enjoyed the buzz and managed her intake, but there was such a quantity present in easy reach at this gathering it was absurd. Absent-mindedly, she realized Strauss had never shown up. Not that it was any loss, the woman seemed to carry a perpetual cloud of boring over her head everywhere she went. Emily was quite content to wish the woman good luck and good riddance instead of feeling like someone was taking notes on all her flaws at what was supposed to be a 'fun' get-together.

JJ was finished catching up with some friends from her transfer days and looked to be returning to the brunette's couch, along with Garcia, who led a woman Emily didn't know to the group. Seaver was approaching as well, though Emily rolled her eyes at the young blonde. Captain Obvious had been gone by the time she returned from Europe and it was no loss in her eyes – JJ was a much better profiler and Seaver never fit in overly well.

"Emily! I heard your vanishing act was uncovered but I never had a chance to welcome you _back_!" Seaver giggled, flopping onto the furniture without much grace. The beer in her bottle sloshed, and it was fortunate her drink was half gone, or the low-cut silver bandage dress would have been stained something fierce.

The older woman wished she had a beer-proof jacket to cover her beaded red dress with. It was one of the few high-end dresses she had left, and it would be a terrible shame if the girl's sloppiness when intoxicated ruined it. _If only some people learned to hold their liquor, or not drink ridiculous amounts in the first place_, she thought, pursing her lips momentarily before forcing a smile. Seaver was nice, if dictated by her daddy issues and cluelessness, and there was no reason to be rude.

"Hi Ashley, guess things have been busy for both of us. Are you enjoying your new team?" Emily replied, shoving as much genuine curiosity into her tone as she could while JJ sat down between the women and Garcia and her plus one showed up on the other side of the brunette.

"It's fa-a-abulous fun! Two totally hot guys, haha, even though that's totally not allowed," Seaver rambled, and JJ turned to her teammate to raise an eyebrow. Emily rolled her eyes in response and gave the girl a courtesy laugh, not that she would remember much about the party tomorrow.

"Garcia, who's your friend?" JJ asked, leaning away from the couch so Seaver was partially blocked as she continued giggling to herself about attractive males. The older blonde didn't mean to be overly rude, but she had little interest in the two men Seaver was talking about – terrible taste if she saw any, and Garcia's companion looked just as put off by Seaver as the BAU girls did.

"This is Beth Griffith, I think I told you about her, she's on Sam Cooper's team, but she joined a while after we worked with them and they're usually on cases during FBI celebrations," Garcia beamed, about to introduce the other profilers when Beth cut in:

"What a shame."

Emily stifled a laugh, though her eyes lighting up let the other brunette know her disapproval was shared.

"Oh, don't be such a grumpypants," Penelope chided, before continuing with her meet-and-greet role, "Beth, this is Emily, JJ, and Ashley. She used to be on their team but went to Andi Swan's."

"Andi is a total b…" the Red Cell profiler began, but a sharp, shocked look from Garcia silenced her as Seaver finally tuned back in.

"Totally _great_ to meet you, lo-o-ove my new team!" she reiterated, and Beth wondered why she'd bothered to come. Prophet's threat of "I'll dump you in a ten foot pile of snow, shortstuff" was, in all likelihood, a genuine offer if she declined to show up. Her modest, plain black dress kept snagging on her too-short winter green cardigan, and it was annoying her to no end, but she wasn't about to take the cardigan off and risk unwanted attraction from the drunk alpha males mulling around the room.

Speaking of alpha males…

"Hey P, have you seen the _other_ members of my team?" Beth turned to the hacker to inquire.

"You know, I was wondering where they were too. Emily's not going home with anyone as of now…" JJ winked at her friend, who scowled. She had seen the Red Cell's leader and Prophet, who was getting along quite well with some other laid-back profilers, but the Welshman and blonde were still missing in action an hour into the party.

"Speaking of!" Penelope gasped, looking up as the glass door to the room opened and the pair walked in, laughing at something. The women all gaped, completely disregarding Mick for the moment, in favor of the ridiculously-expensive outfit Gina had on.

The woman was handing her jacket to her teammate to hang up, exposing the skintight burgundy velvet dress, complete with faux fur cuffs on the arms and hem and scooping neckline. Her maroon Chanel clutch draped elegantly over her arm, matched by a platinum heart necklace that JJ recognized as being from Tiffany's. Suddenly, her own simple sapphire pendant looked incredibly cheap, even if it matched the stylish but simply navy dress.

Most notably, the magenta velvet 5.5 inch Louboutins on her feet, lined with crystals in a snowflake pattern on the heel and platform, caught their eyes. The other women stared in shock, and even Garcia felt one-upped despite the fluffy layers of sparkling tulle under her sequined green dress.

"She has a boyfriend," Beth spluttered, gaping at her teammate. The others nodded – it was the only conclusion that explained the quantity of expensive clothes she was wearing, plus the alluring dress. She wasn't here to find a date, she had one.

"He's probably here or she wouldn't bother dressing up," JJ whispered as the blonde caught sight of agents she knew and started walking over. The women scanned the room in a preliminary sweep of who it might be.

Emily smiled. Suddenly, the night had gotten _much_ more interesting.

* * *

><p>Spencer Reid frowned as Morgan refilled his cup of eggnog. After the graduates had darted off to gossip and finally stopped asking him about serial killers with a nose obsession, he had dragged his coworker away from two women who clearly weren't <em>that<em> interested. Not that he minded using the wealth of knowledge he possessed to enlighten the younglings of the profiling world, but the graduates had bordered on pestering nuisances, and on such a bizarre subject, too.

Speaking of noses, after looking around he noticed Seaver's was turning particularly red. And she showed no signs of stopping her binge drinking for the night. At least she was surrounded by law enforcement who wouldn't shove her into a white, windowless van and chop her body up after calling her 'Suzy'.

Now he was just getting jaded from the job.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to show," Morgan chuckled, reaching his arm out to perform what Reid thought was a horribly odd bro-hug with newcomer Mick Rawson, looking quite smug.

"Eh, figured I'd better make an appearance or some idiot'd start askin' questions," the sniper shrugged, glancing at the table of appetizers with interest.

"Yeah, yeah, I know how it is. Better places to be with finer booty. Reid here is right at home with the snorefests who like to talk about nose-stealing serial killers in their free time," Morgan smirked, punching the slighter man in the arm.

"And you're right at home with the serial predators who prowl clubs for 'easy' women," he retorted, and the Brit laughed.

* * *

><p>"You know, this party would be a lot more fun if we could bring non-members, introduce them to our work friends," Rossi tossed out once Fickler had left to speak with other team leaders and office hounds.<p>

Cooper raised his eyebrows but said nothing, watching the reluctant smile poke at the corners of Hotch's mouth.

"I'm sure profilers would seem like the life of the party," he muttered, avoiding any serious response to Rossi one way or the other.

"Come on, you thought about her before remembering it's FBI-only," the Italian pressed.

"Beth already had plans with some girlfriends tonight," Hotch shrugged, stating it so casually Cooper almost missed the name.

"…Beth?"

"Yeah, nice petite brunette, likes to run," Rossi started explaining, thinking back to the woman's Facebook profile picture. Not that he had been creeping, but Garcia _did_ have many means of looking people up…

"You're dating my agent?" Sam gasped, exasperated. This wasn't much of a description, but it certainly applied to the newest member of his team.

Rossi and Hotch stared at him. The black man jerked a thumb at the couch of female agents, where 'his' Beth sat rolling her eyes at whatever Seaver was saying about Gina's outfit.

"Absolutely not. She's training for a triathlon, like me, but that's not her," Hotch quickly stated, almost too fast, but Rossi nodded – that wasn't the woman in the profile image. He wasn't subtle enough, and the other man noticed, "How do you know what she looks like?"

"Oh, uh, you know…" Dave whistled, finding a particular purple ornament very fascinating as it spun gently in the breeze from people walking by the door.

Neither team leader was convinced.

* * *

><p>"So Gina, tell us <em>all about<em> him!" Penelope gushed the moment compliments on outfits had ceased.

The blonde blinked, pretending to look entirely confused by the request, "Who are you talking about?"

"Your man, obviously. Someone bought you that bling and we want the dirt," JJ countered, prepared to weasel the information out of the girl. She was rather fond of the other blonde – as far as recent graduates of the academy went, Gina was eons above Ashley, who found it necessary to toss an opinion out:

"Unless you're, you know, into girls. Sometimes I look at one too and think…"

"That's nice, Ashley, but we're prying into Gina's love life right now, wait your turn," Emily cut her off, trying not to sound overly curt, but the blonde on the far end of the couch was intoxicated enough she shrugged it off. The Red Cell's blonde was left standing in front of the furniture in her embellished heels, swapping the purse from shoulder to shoulder as she tried to maintain an air of obliviousness.

"I definitely _don't_ swing that way, but I still don't know what you want me to say," she shrugged, but Emily knew precisely what fidgeting with a necklace meant.

"We want to know all about him! Come on, spill. JJ has her baby daddy, and Penelope has Kevin, and you _must_ have someone, so talk," the brunette encouraged.

"And Beth has Prophet's dead body," Garcia laughed, only to be knocked off the arm of the couch by the woman in question. With the strange looks the other girls gave her, she explained it was a common joke Beth was a serial killer fugitive on the run and Simms was her next target.

"Why don't you tell us about Doctor Reid instead?" Gina smiled innocently, but her narrowed eyes, focused on Emily, sent a clear message.

Prentiss shut up.

* * *

><p>"So then I was telling her, 'sorry babe, game's on, biggest one of the season so far' and she told me to call her later when the game was over, but honestly she was flat in the sack to begin with so I wasn't that into it," Morgan concluded, finished with detailing his last attempt at seeing a woman to the other two profilers. Neither looked amused.<p>

"You gave up sex with a woman to watch your bloody stupid American football?" Mick asked, disgust plastered on his face.

"Look bro, if you can't handle the game with your sissy accent, I get it," Derek huffed back, ready to go on the offense.

"I can handle a good game, mate, but you wasted the chance to get laid to watch sports, alone, bloody rubbish," the Brit rolled his eyes, folding his arms. Reid nodded, though he didn't have much of a horse in either argument, not being a playboy like the other two.

"You clearly don't understand the importance of watching last season's Superbowl champs take on one of the top teams," retorted Morgan, who wasn't going to let this go.

"No mate, I don't, because there are _much_ better uses of your time than watching something you can check the score on later. Takes the full time she's doing her mascara to get up to date on every bloody sport you Americans love."

"Maybe you should stuff it, Rawson. Like cricket and polo are sports."

"I don't follow any of that rubbish, you're just daft for giving up a prime piece of meat to watch a game, alone."

Reid felt this was the perfect time to interject with his opinion, "While I'm not the womanizer either of you is, and my comprehension of the enjoyment from following sports is limited, Mick is right – why would you willingly sacrifice time with a woman for viewing other males slamming each other to the ground in uniforms that show off their muscles?"

"Spot on, mate! That's exactly it. No reason to decline yourself the pleasant company of a delightful bird in favor of… American football," Mick concurred, clapping the genius on the back, who smiled. Rawson was probably the only person at the party who could out-Morgan Morgan, and it felt nice to be on the same team.

"Womanizer? Reid now you're hitting low. And football is _the best_ sport, you just don't get it," Derek glared, shaking his head at both of the men.

"You must have some bloody awful lays, mate, to take watching men touch each other for a ball over the tender caresses of a woman," the sniper retorted, eyebrows raised. Reid glanced at him and nodded slightly – he knew where this was headed and he was prepared to get one in over Morgan for once.

"What are you trying to say, sissy boy?"

"I believe he's stating that despite your self-proclaimed ability to garner female attention, your prowess at finding a pleasurable mate is quite possibly below mine," Spencer tossed out, smiling widely. Rawson winked at him – the genius had some game after all.

"Oh yeah, and you two are just rolling in dozens of freaky chicks," Morgan glowered, losing his ability to think of a proper response.

"I'm rolling in bed with one very lovely girl, but I suppose you don't know much about going steady either, eh?" Mick grinned again, and Reid internally high-fived himself at the other man's gaping expression.

"You? Have a girlfriend? And you're not banging anyone on the side?"

"Surprised I can hold down a prize bird and you can't get a decent shag for one night?"

"What's her name?" Reid asked, genuinely curious. It interested him to know just how different the two ladies' men were turning out to be.

Rawson's mouth floundered like a goldfish.

* * *

><p>"I don't think he took you and P looking up his girlfriend very well," Cooper tossed out to the novelist, who was staring sheepishly at Hotch's retreating figure.<p>

"I don't think he'd take you even _calling_ her his girlfriend very well," Rossi sighed, shaking his head. Hotchner had glared at the Italian before going off to find someone 'less nosy' to talk to.

He found Prophet and Andi Swan having a pleasant chat, and decided there were worse people to speak with at the moment. Like Reid and two alpha males arguing over something, or the women of both teams prying into each other's personal lives. And Prophet was certainly less intrusive than David 'I Know About Everything' Rossi. Sam could deal with having every nook and cranny of his life investigated by the master profiler himself now.

That was a bit unfair, Cooper had nothing to do with Penelope's love of gossip and Dave's lust for knowledge, but Hotch was sure there was _something_ the man had done to deserve a few minutes of inquisition.

"Hotch, man, what's this about you and my teammate getting cozy?" Prophet winked, though the expression seemed to drift past Hotchner to the two men he'd just left.

"Different woman."

* * *

><p>"Gina, come on, we <em>know<em> you've got a man, and we're profilers, we can _tell_ he must be here because you're showing some serious skin, and wearing everything he bought you. So who is he?" JJ nearly begged. She loved talking with her fellow girls, and though Garcia was _the_ gossip, she loved a good story just as much.

"Why do you need to know?" the blonde sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"Because I will stuff the other members of our team into an airtight closet, one by one, if you don't spit it out," Beth threatened, dead serious expression on her face. JJ and Emily had a hard time telling if she was kidding, but Penelope's giggle indicated she most likely was.

"How about you find a boyfriend and we can rag on you about him instead?" the younger woman suggested, a weak smile on her face.

"Oh, honey, I'm too old to try. You're young and not-so-restless anymore. You have the relevant story here, so dish," the brunette shook her head, wistfully grinning.

"Beth, don't say that! We could find you a major hunk at this party and set you _up_!" Garcia gushed, clutching at the other woman's arms.

"You fell for the distraction, Penelope. Back on topic," Emily butted in, before any more derailing could happen.

Gina frowned, looking at their expectant faces, "I'm not going to tell you who he is. He… we agreed not to tell anyone yet."

Everyone groaned in frustration, all except Seaver, who practically dropped a glass into Gina's hand as she walked back from the refreshments table. She was holding a full bottle of champagne and smirking. Slowly, the other women began to realize her plan, but the blonde couldn't see the booze from her position.

For possibly the first time, Emily was thankful Seaver's bad alcohol habits and easy access were around at one of these boring parties.

* * *

><p>"Her name isn't bloody relevant, I told you! All that matters is <em>I'm<em> getting tail and neither of you has a shot," Mick grumbled, unwilling to back down from Morgan despite knowing he should retreat.

"I don't believe it," Derek taunted, feeling like he took the upper hand again.

"Did you see me bother with a single broad when I came in?"

The other two shook their heads, admitting he had breezed past the female agents.

"You, on the other hand, were probably chatting up every unattached bird there is, ignoring their obvious disinterest," Rawson concluded, glaring pointedly at Morgan, while Reid stood on the sidelines, wishing right now he had bothered to back out. When he took a step back, the other two grabbed his arm and pulled him right into the fray again.

"Only four girls!" snapped Derek, who realized that probably didn't make him look any better.

"Actually it was five," Reid tossed out, earning a nasty look, "You dragged me back into the circle!"

"You _need_ to try and flirt with every loose broad in the joint to get laid. Short end of the stick, mate. Shouldn't have put your bloody rubbish sports before the _real_ game," smirked Rawson, cocking an eyebrow at Morgan, who was quickly running out of intelligent things to say before resorting to insults.

"What if I enjoy a good game of football more than sex?" Derek returned after some thought, thinking that was a pretty smart comeback.

"You really are unable to attract remotely-pleasurable women, aren't you?" Spencer asked, confidently fist bumping the Brit.

Morgan turned around to storm off and find the easiest-looking girl at the party.

* * *

><p>Gina giggled stupidly, somewhat confused as to why her glass never seemed to lose champagne despite the sips she took. She still didn't see Seaver, standing to the side, hiding the half-empty bottle behind her back.<p>

"Oh he's _wonderful_, every morning he wakes me up to get it on and he's so good at it," she laughed, replying to Garcia's query about the blonde's sex life. They still hadn't been able to force her boyfriend's identity out of her, but the profiler was clearly tipsy enough the information would come soon.

"Tell me _more_," Beth encouraged, looking more sympathetic and welcoming than she had in a decade. Truthfully, she had a suspicion as to who the mystery man, and was enjoying the opportunity to absorb as much information as she could to mock him with.

"Every day after work he's so much fun, he doesn't care about sports or anything, so we're always together," she laughed to herself, "And he loves to take me shopping. He said I'm, uh, such a thrill after."

Emily sighed in appreciation for the tale of young love, though she suspected the blonde's boyfriend was a fair few years older to afford Chanel purses, "How nice of him."

"Isn't it? He's so nice, you're missing out! I bet none of _you_ get Louboutins," Gina pointed out, standing up straighter and pulling a heel up to glance at its perfection.

That shut the others up – now she was just bragging. JJ and Garcia glanced at each other and shook their heads. This was probably why men didn't understand girl talk, it just made them want more out of their men by comparing. And Gina was seemingly worlds ahead of any of their relationships.

"He really doesn't ignore you for sports?" JJ shook her head, still unable to believe it. Will loved a good game of football, enjoyed with his friends and a few beers. Unless Henry was ill, he'd barely move all Sunday.

"Nope! Isn't that so sweet of him, oh he's so great!" the blonde laughed, taking another sip of her drink and eying the level carefully.

Prentiss was starting to get bored again – Gina proved to be more resilient than anyone else she'd ever known at keeping a secret, and hearing how wonderful her relationship was grated at the fact Emily was much older and single. Fortunately, she spotted Reid approaching, unfortunately accompanied by eternal obnoxious flirt Mick Rawson, who looked quite full of himself.

"Wow, look at _that_ piece of _work_," Ashley simpered from the side, turning her intoxicated attentions to the approaching men. She stumbled forward and clasped her arms around the sniper's neck, draping against him as his eyes widened. Emily cocked her head – he looked almost offended she was coming onto him so hard. Reid was blushing furiously, embarrassed for every party involved, and he looked ready to say something when Seaver started in again.

"Where have _you_ been this whole time? Me-ow," she purred, mentally undressing the Brit and making no secret of it.

Garcia sighed; she had hoped Ashley would start getting over this with her move to another team. Sharing a disappointed look with JJ and Emily, she leaned back against the couch to let Mick handle the over-affectionate blonde by himself. Better yet, he could take her home and out of their hair.

"BACK OFF!"

The screech silenced the party, and the other profilers turned to blatantly stare at the incoming fight. They made no secret of their interest in whatever disagreement was about to break out, probably because by this point into the night everyone was either boozed up or bored. The entertainment committee had fallen short again with providing lasting games and events to keep a room full of highly intelligent people from falling asleep when they finished talking to everyone they found tolerable.

Gina's purse dropped to the ground, the silver chain threaded with matching maroon leather sliding off her arm. Luckily, Emily was paying enough attention to loop her shorter stiletto under the flap and save it from hitting the floor.

Now _this_ was interesting.

Seaver was staring in shock at the other blonde, who had whirled around after turning her head and seeing Ashley draped off the sniper. The deafening yell froze Seaver in place, and Reid winced, like he knew this was coming and wished he could have said something first. Rawson remained entirely squeamish to Ashley's advances, which Emily found very intriguing. The shout didn't even seem to surprise him so much as exasperate him.

"Don't touch him you _slut_!" Gina screamed again, lifting one stiletto-clad foot to stomp it down in front of her. She shook slightly as she stepped, the alcohol preventing her from staying steady.

Ashley was still paralyzed. Beth had the largest grin on her face that Emily had ever seen, while JJ and Garcia watched on, transfixed by the upcoming showdown. Morgan, Prophet and Cooper were approaching the background, the only agents who dared to come near. The rest were content to listen from a safe distance, in case it got _real_.

"I said don't touch him, what are you, stupid?" the blonde snarled, rushing forward to yank Seaver away. The other woman stumbled back, completely blindsided by the attack, and hit her knees against the couch, falling onto it, still confused by what was happening.

Emily dearly hoped that wasn't it – she was coming to a startling epiphany and she did so want it confirmed. Fortunately, Gina wasn't done with her rampage:

"He is MINE! Keep your slutty little hands off of him."

Morgan's mouth dropped. He had been considering seeing if Gina was up for a good time; she had been nice enough when they worked together in California, but that wasn't likely anymore.

Fickler's groan was heard by all, but Gina didn't seem to care. She kept glowering at Ashley, standing between the girl and 'her' man.

"Maybe she's really drunk…" JJ whispered to the other three women on the couch who weren't plastered out of their minds, but Beth shook her head.

Mick finally moved, reaching a hand out to turn Gina's face to him, gently grasping her chin. He looked into her eyes, which had a hard time focusing on him and maintaining eye contact. Then he looked at the four profilers on the couch.

"You realized she had a boyfriend she was refusing to identify, so you got her _drunk_? Really, loves?" he sighed, a disappointed frown on his face.

"Who are you calling 'love'!" Gina hissed, redirecting her lingering wrath onto him.

The sniper realized his mistake, despite his frequent use of the word. She had adopted 'love' as her personal pet name, and this was not the right time to bring that into question. He backtracked, "It was entirely sarcastic, darling."

She went silent, but still looked ready to snap. Seaver was paralyzed on the couch, unable to think of any proper way to react. Cooper and Prophet were now behind the couple, shaking their heads. Beth could see them, but she didn't care if they disapproved.

"So, Gina, is this the _wonderful_, shop-till-you-drop-to-your-knees, overly-affectionate and adoring boyfriend you were telling us about?" she asked, smirking in satisfaction. The brunette knew the younger profilers would hook up sooner or later and the only question in her head had been were they sleeping together already.

"Yes, he is, so back off!" she grumbled, stepping back to wrap her arms around him from the side.

"You realize you just told everyone you were dating your teammate in front of the entire FBI profiling force, right?" Morgan pointed out, and the blonde's smile from holding her man vanished. Everyone turned to Fickler, who had been trying to hide behind a corner and pretend this wasn't happening.

"Yeah, I did, and I'm proud of it! I'm not ashamed I'm with him and I don't care who knows we're together," Gina indignantly insisted, her voice getting louder again.

Mick sighed, trying to get her to settle down, "Love, you realize it's our jobs on the line now, right? You can stop making a scene about it, I think they bloody get it."

She gasped, seemingly sobering up. Emily felt a rush of pity for the woman – she knew the feeling. It was all fun and games in the moment, with the inebriating buzz of too much alcohol, and then someone told you the cold, hard facts and you realized your mistake. This _had_ been fun, and a profiler fight was always entertaining, but now everyone was focused on Fickler's rare presence.

He crept out from his corner, unable to remain out of view any longer. Straightening his suit to look as professional as possible and authoritatively coughing, he glanced around the room, full of nosy faces.

"Red Cell teams have… a different set of rules they operate by. I heard nothing tonight," Fickler scoffed, strolling towards the door like he didn't have a concern in the world.

People began turning back to their conversations, looking away from Mick and Gina. Their attention turned to mocking the stunned Seaver, still collapsed onto the couch in no particular position. She had, after all, been shut down completely by a jealous girlfriend in front of the entire profiling section of the FBI. _And_ the director.

Mick gave a disapproving scowl to the women on the couch before wrapping an arm around the blonde's waist. He turned to Reid and Morgan:

"Reid, pleasure doing business with you. Morgan, good luck getting a decent lay before you're fifty."

The black agent was about to retort, but the couple lurched to the side and their backs were to him before he could find the best possible comeback that didn't embarrass him.

"Come on, love. Let's go home," he whispered to Gina, kissing her forehead, and she nodded, swaying into him in her heels, slightly off balance. Emily realized the Chanel clutch was still resting on her lap and hopped up to return it. Though it was a lovely bag, the vibrant color didn't suit her as well as it did the younger blonde.

Gina glared at the approaching woman, but the brunette shrugged it off. Seaver's trick had worked all too well, and Mick _had_ been a terrible flirt when they were in California. She accepted the venemous stare as nothing personal and offered the purse back, "You forgot this."

"Thanks," the blonde said, reaching out to take it. Her voice was flat, but not laced with any malice. The pair retrieved their coats and left, wrapped in the other's arms.

Emily rocked back on her heels, comparing this to previous FBI parties. It ranked higher than most, and at least the women got an answer on the mystery boyfriend. And Seaver got her drunken mess handed to her. The blonde was nice, but she needed to be taken down a peg or two, especially for how important and informed she thought she was on profiling. Prentiss was also a bit surprised that Mick had settled into a monogamous relationship so, apparently, well, and was able to buy such an array of expensive gifts. She might need to have Garcia organize a girl's night with both teams to learn more.

Reid appeared behind her, though she hadn't heard him walk up, so she jumped when his presence was suddenly _very_ in her space, "Reid, are you teleporting now?"

His puppy pout prompted a slight smile, to let him know it wasn't a stab at him like Morgan would make. He never usually got this close, but now that the party was fizzling once again, it was fairly welcome, "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if Rawson's method of neglecting sports in favor of attention to his significant other is an effective method, and pondering whether you might be interested in helping me test a hypothesis," he casually inquired, so calm about it she really wasn't sure what was being implied. But Morgan had his lips all over an unknown redhead in the corner, and the rest of the party was turning to much of the same, so whatever Reid was recommending, it was probably better than this.

"Sure!"

Spencer made a mental note to call Mick – he seemed to be a lot more knowledgeable about women than Morgan even proved to be despite his ability to get numerous numbers at a bar. Not that the doubted Morgan got his fair share of girls, but he was missing vital information on maintaining a relationship via paying more attention to one's girlfriend than the boring sport on the TV.

Prentiss smiled as he led her out. The party wasn't supposed to end for over another hour, but it was a bore now. And Reid's confidence was draining now, so who knew what fun might crop up.

* * *

><p>"We're going home alone, you know that, right?" Beth sighed, glancing over at Prophet, who was standing on the other side of Garcia, still sitting on the couch arm.<p>

JJ paled and looked away. If this was _another_ inner-team hookup, she wanted no part of it. Things were bad enough already, as she had noticed Reid escorting Emily out. Making a note to ask the brunette about it tomorrow, she slumped into the couch's plush cushions.

"I'm fine with it man, are you?" Prophet challenged, both frowning at Morgan's risqué display of affection for a woman over in the far corner.

"I can go home alone longer than you," Beth countered, raising an eyebrow. It would be pointless to involve their fellow teammates in this gamble because, clearly, neither had been going home alone for quite a while.

"You're on."

JJ sighed, rolling over to face the well-decorated wall, watching apathetically as a tack slowly fell from its hole, leaving the tinsel and silver garland to droop awkwardly.

She wasn't quite sure how middle-aged people making outlasting-celibacy pacts would go over in a write-up of the event, though she was entirely positive the matter didn't deserve another ounce of thought.

"You've probably got a hundred pictures of them by now!"

Not another _ounce_.

* * *

><p>Merry Christmas everyone, and thanks for reading! For those curious, Gina's shoes are CL's Eugenie 140mm. Anyway, reviews are loved - constructive criticism is welcome as is what you liked &amp; didn't. Hope you all have a good holiday, and if you liked the style of this, I have a few more fics, just check my profile. And more CM fics to come from me! So again, thanks for reading, and leave a review if you'd be so kind (:<p> 


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